Preface
This book is about vintage games—or, more specifically, the vintage games that have had the most potent influences on both the videogame industry and the culture that supports it. These are the paradigm shifters; the games that made a difference.
The word vintage has its origins in the wine industry, where it usually denotes wine produced during a special year—a year in which the grapes were particularly delightful. Your humble authors, both lifelong and dedicated gamers and enthusiasts, beg your indulgence: let us be your connoisseurs, your guides on a wondrous tour through the history of some of the finest games ever made. And if during your journey through these pages, you desire a sip of Chateau Haut-Brion Pessac-Lognan (v. 1982), we promise not to stop you. It was a good year.
Before we embark, however, you might want to know how we selected your destinations. How did we decide which games were truly the “most influential”?
When we were first asked to write this book, we were skeptical, particularly because we've become disenfranchised with the “best ever” lists that saturate the Internet. Major gaming websites never tire of trotting out some “top ten” this or that—yet despite so many varied attempts, not one has gotten it right. The latest over-hyped movie crossover is as likely to appear on these lists as Pac-Man and Pole Position. About the only thing these lists are good for is stirring up controversy on blogs and community sites: “What—they didn't mention Tunnels of Doom? And where the heck is Ultima?” As is always the case, the true criteria of such lists is the whims and personal experiences of their creators. If you grew up with a TI-99/4a in the house, of course you think Tunnels of Doom is a great game, and we agree, but it's only mentioned here. Ultima is Chapter 23.
What really, then, constitutes a great game? Does it mean “a bestseller”? If so, this list would look quite different, with far more modern and far fewer vintage titles. Why? Because there are millions more gamers now than ever before, and the industry continues to expand. Even the most wretched sequel of a sequel may sell more copies than several of the games discussed in this book. Meanwhile, several of the games we discuss in this book weren't sold at all—or at least were initially distributed for free: Rogue, Spacewar!, Tetris, and Zork all fit this description.
If not sales, perhaps “innovation” is the key to separating the vintage from the vinegar. If a game does something first, doesn't that make it more influential than the later games that did it better? Alas, if this were so, the outline of our book would look like a Gordian Knot. As we'll see, videogames have not followed a nice, neat linear evolution, and even the most original-seeming game had plenty of predecessors and influences, whether it was an earlier game or some other cultural phenomenon.
Even if we could prove, beyond all doubt, that a game had done something first—though important, that fact doesn't necessarily mean it was influential. Spacewar! wasn't the first videogame; it was preceded by at least two earlier and all but forgotten projects, OXO and Tennis for Two. Does that make Spacewar! less influential? Certainly not. The game developers who would make such a difference in the 1970s and 1980s probably had never heard of OXO or Tennis for Two, but many of them played Spacewar!. In short, innovation alone doesn't suffice to make a game influential; it also requires exposure and recognition. Why dote on an old clunker like Vectorbeam's Warrior (1979) when it's obvious to everyone that Capcom's Street Fighter II (1991) is the fighting game that defined (and continues to define) the fighting genre?
Neither is novelty a reliable sounding board. If we shared this view, we'd be talking primarily about titles like Atari's Tempest (1981; Arcade), Namco's Dig Dug (1982; Arcade), Datasoft's Mancopter (1984; Commodore 64), or Nintendo's Kirby: Canvas Curse (2005; Nintendo DS), each examples of brilliant games with unique features. Are these great games? Sure. Did they inspire hundreds—if not thousands—of clones and derivatives? No.
The games chosen in this book represent every significant genre. Readers who are disappointed to find that their favorite game didn't receive its own chapter might still find it referenced and described in the context of a game that did. We make no claims, however, to offering anything like a comprehensive listing of all videogames, which would be about as much fun as reading a dictionary. The book's main focus is to provide a concise yet detailed overview of an influential game, its antecedents, and its predecessors. We might also warn readers that we have not let our recognition of these games restrain our criticism of their weaknesses.
Who is this book for? Clearly, it's for anyone with a passion for videogaming, but most particularly those who enjoy learning the history of their favorite pastime. It's also sure to be useful for both experienced and aspiring game designers. There is probably no better way to learn the 50+-year history of videogames than to read about (and hopefully play) the greatest and most influential games of all time. Such experience benefits both designers and players, who may be surprised at the depth and diversity of our gaming heritage. Designers should know what's been done before, what's worked, and what hasn't worked. These pages offer an endless source of inspiration for a developer longing to create the next great game. As a player, it's important to have a respect for the past, not just callously dismissing everything before the current generation as obsolete. Besides leaving the gamer woefully ignorant and even naive, such an attitude leads to the boring sameness we currently find so much of in the industry. Read this book, and let us know if you still think every new game has to be a sequel of a sequel. If nothing else, this book should raise your expectations about what developers are truly capable of producing.
Does the world really need another compilation of the best games ever—even if it is, for the sake of argument, one hell of a fine read? Because our experiences and palates are so very distinct, what does “best” or “greatest” really mean anyway? There are few objective criteria that we can bring to bear on the matter. What we can bring, though, is our own extensive experience playing, studying, writing about, and discussing thousands upon thousands of games from all eras and all platforms. Whether we're talking arcades, consoles, computers, handhelds, or mainframes—if it's a game, we've probably played it. If we say a game is great, it is not because it is great compared to the games of the previous few years, or even the past few decades, but because it is great, period. Plus, we really like these games.
We decided to take this project on as a challenge—a challenge not only to pick a truly representative list of the greatest and most influential games of all time—not just from the period when we first started playing games—but to truly add something useful to the often-haphazard videogame literature out there. These may not have been the bestselling or even most memorable games, but each of these carefully chosen titles in their own special way changed videogames forever. In addition to discussing the games themselves, we'll also direct your attention to other critically important titles that either influenced or were influenced by them. If you find yourself convinced by this book to seek out the many forgotten gems of game history, drop us a postcard (or at least an email!) at Armchair Arcade.
Now sit back and let the videogames begin!